


Meeting Mrs. Brown

by littlemissvincentvega



Series: Reservoir Thots [1]
Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: Arguing, Bickering, Coffee, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Insults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 14:57:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18252173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemissvincentvega/pseuds/littlemissvincentvega
Summary: the Dogs don't believe that Mr. Brown is married, so he convinces them to visit to prove them wrong and, as expected, bickering commences! :')





	Meeting Mrs. Brown

**Author's Note:**

> my first request on tumblr! ♥♥ mr brown is such a cutie omg

It wasn’t every day you had seven pairs of eyes on you - you were so used to it being just you and your husband at home that admittedly, this amount of attention was a little overwhelming. That plus the fact that he’d drilled it into you to only refer to him as ‘Mr. Brown’ had put quite a bit of pressure on you. Brown had convinced the guys involved in his upcoming heist to visit your home (a sweet little suburban bungalow in Lakewood) after they refused to believe he was actually married.

“Uhh… so who’s who?” you ask timidly, standing close to your husband.

“That’s Nice Guy Eddie, that’s Mr. White, that’s Mr. Blonde, that’s Mr. Blue, that’s Mr. Orange–” he says, pointing at each guy, “and that’s Mr. Pink. Everyone, meet Mrs. Brown.”

You smile at each of them warmly, a tinge of anxiousness rolling around in your tummy. “Can I get any of you a drink?”

“Coffee,” says Mr. Pink.

“Haven’t you heard of ‘please’, man?” Brown whines, frowning at his colleague.

Before Pink can retort, Mr. White speaks up. “I’ll have a coffee too, please, if it’s no trouble.” He has a calming sense about him.

You smile at him. “Of course. Anyone else for coffee?” you offer, and Orange, Eddie and Blue all politely accept. Smiling, you put the kettle on and collect a few mugs from the cupboard, making sure to set Brown’s favourite aside - a cute little Donkey Kong mug you bought him for his birthday. (“ _Holy shit, baby, this is so fuckin’ cool, thank you so much!! I love it!”,_ he had beamed, hugging you excitedly.)

“You know, I think you’ve hired some random girl to pretend to be your wife,” smirks Blonde, “there’s no way she’s married to you.”

“Sorry, asshole, who are  _you_ married to?” White scoffs, making Mr. Orange snigger. 

“If she’s not his wife, why’s there a framed fuckin’ picture of ‘em on their wedding day here?” Eddie points out, admiring it.

“Thank you, Eddie,” you giggle. For a group of professional criminals, they didn’t half bicker like a bunch of children.

“So why did you marry him?” asks Blonde, leaning against the kitchen counter.

You shrug. “He asked me to.”

“Why are you fucking interrogatin’ her?” your husband complains, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “Why’s it so hard to believe  _I’m_ married?”

“‘Cause you’re a fuckin’ idiot,” mutters Pink. “Can I smoke in here?”

“You’re already lightin’ a cig,” says Orange.

“It’s fine, you can smoke,” you say, forcing a smile. The kettle’s boiling by now, and you make yourself busy by spilling spoonfuls of coffee in each mug and stirring in the hot water. “How’d you all take your coffees?”

“Lots’a cream, lots’a sugar, madam,” White replies, and Mr. Orange asks for the same.

“Two sugars, please, honey,” smiles Eddie.

“Just black coffee for me, thanks,” says Blue.

“Yeah, me too,” Pink adds.

“Sure thing,” you say, filling the orders.

As you hand the guys their drinks in an exchange of  _‘thank you’_ s and _‘you’re welcome’_ s, Mr. White takes a warm interest in your relationship. “How did you two lovebirds meet, then?” he asks, sipping his coffee and smiling in approval.

“Okay, well– she was in the horror section in that VHS store downtown - you know, the one where they found that severed finger - and I was browsing too, you know, and I saw her looking at ‘The Shining’–”

Giggling, you interrupt him. “And he just walked right up to me and started telling me some crazy conspiracy about it being Stanley Kubrick’s confession to faking the moon landing. Then before I had chance to respond, he was like ‘So do you wanna go out sometime?’” 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Brown, nothin’ says ‘I’m desperate’ like that,” Pink retorts, smirking to himself - even you giggle at this. Blonde also seems to be enjoying himself, puffing away on a cig and quietly chuckling.

“Shut up, ‘Mr. Pink’, I don’t see a ring on your fuckin’ finger,” you shoot back, earning a collective  _‘oooooh’_ from the other guys. 

“Nice one, baby,” grins your husband, slapping you on the back playfully.

“You know he thinks pigeons are fuckin’ government spies, right? You know that?” Pink splutters.

“Yeah, so?”

Thwarted, he sits back in his seat and takes a long drag from his cigarette, eyeballing everyone. “Cute story,” remarks Eddie, his eyes twinkling.

“I know a couple’a soulmates when I see ‘em, and you two are fuckin’ made for each other,” smiles White. It was true - you and Brown were both as dorky as one another, there was no denying it, and you were simply head over heels in love. He may come across as a little nuts, but Brown was a complete sweetheart and only had eyes for you.

“That’s real sweet, Mr. White,” you beam. “Aren’t any of you guys married?” Surprisingly, they all shake their heads. True, they’re professional criminals so there’s not always time for romance, but the majority of them seem wonderfully kind.

“S’a dangerous job in itself, but I sure as hell wanna marry someday,” sighs White. “How long’ve you two been together?”

“We met in ‘85, so… seven years in October, it’ll be.”

Grinning, Brown wiggles in his seat. “Yup, seven years, that’s right.”

“I’ll drink to that,” says Eddie, raising his mug.

“You’re drinkin’ fuckin’ coffee,” Pink sniffs.

“You wanna be kicked outta this heist, Mr. Pussy?”

“No, I–”

“Well then shut the fuck up!”

Both you and your husband giggle at their back and forth. Pink sits with his tail between his legs. “I don’t like it when you call me that,” he says sheepishly.

“Well stop acting like a pussy and I won’t call you it.”

“Mr. Pussy,” you repeat, giggling childishly, “that’s funny!”

“Oh yeah? What about him? Mr. Shit?”

You grin. “That’s funny too, Mr. Pussy.”

“Babe! You’re  _my_ wife, you’re supposed to be on my side!” splutters Brown.

“I am, honey! It’s just tickled me,” you grin, taking his hand in yours. That familiar, sweet little smile grows on his face.

“But if I’m Mr. Shit, you’re Mrs. Shit!”

After that sinks in, you hastily change your mind. “Okay– Pink, shut the fuck up.”


End file.
